Things Past
by Regina lacrimarum
Summary: Hermione returns to Hogwarts for her seventh year.  Snape is waspish, and Dumbledore is Dumbledore.  A new project is in the works that will change lives forever.
1. Return

Disclaimer: I'm not even British, so how can I be J.K.R.?

A/N: This is AU for certain events in books six and seven. Basically, Snape and Dumbledore are still alive and Hermione has no interest in doing the horizontal mambo with Ron. There are various other small changes, which you'll notice as you encounter them.

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><p>The platform seemed smaller, somehow, and she couldn't put her finger on why. The students bustling around were fewer in number, but they sported the same looks of anticipation that they always had. What was it that made her feel that the joy was a mask concealing something rotten?<p>

Harry brushed her arm as he came up beside her and she could feel his eyes. Harry in particular had been worried that Hermione would suffer from the separation. She turned her head slightly to the right and gave him the best reassuring smile she could muster.

He wasn't fooled, but he only said quietly, "Ron's coming with your bags."

She glanced past him. Indeed, a red-faced Ron was staggering along the platform, and Hermione wondered if she really needed that extra copy of _Water Magic, 1800-1960_. Ron would certainly say not.

The fact that Ginny's luggage obviously weighed at least twice as much as Hermione's did something to ease her guilt. Ginny was grinning a little as she watched her brother approach with his burden, but she looked almost as weary as Hermione felt. She was clutching her fiance's hand as she might a lifeline, her fingers almost white from the force she was exerting. Harry was clinging just as tightly to her, and Hermione looked away.

Ron reached them at last, and he too found the scarlet train a much more suitable view sight than his sister's desperation. He met Hermione's eyes and smiled wistfully. They could never be each other's lifelines, not that way.

Harry cleared his throat, and the moment of perfect understanding passed. He released Ginny's hand and waved vaguely at the engine. "You should get on board."

Hermione nodded in acknowledgment and extended her arms awkwardly towards Ron. He put the bags down and hugged her. She held on to him for longer than was usual, until she caught a whiff of something like tobacco. His hair. Tears pricked her eyes, and she sprang back.

Harry let go of Ginny long enough to hug Hermione and remind her not to wear herself out with studying. Then both girls seized their bags and forced themselves to walk away. Once they were on the train, they would not look out the window to wave a last goodbye. There was too much danger of being unable to leave.

Luna was already on the train, sitting in a compartment near the rear. She was glad to see her friends, but the instrument in her lap, apparently a bizarre cross of pliers and a magnifying glass, had most of her attention. Ginny didn't seem to be in a chatty mood, so Hermione stared out of the window at the countryside, where disinterested sheep whizzed by under a leaden sky.

When the castle was close enough that Hermione could see the towers rising in the distance, she bit her lip until she tasted the sour tang of blood. As much as she had loved Hogwarts, as much as she wanted to finish school, this building was hers no longer. The Astronomy Tower, blackened and pitted from a spell cast in the battle for the school, attested to that.

So did the children getting off the train, who avoided Hermione as though she had fought with the Death Eaters, rather than against them. No one but Ginny and Luna met her gaze as the students retrieved their luggage and hauled it away towards the carriages. The others never brushed against her, never so much as looked in her direction.

Hermione's dread only increased when a second-year Gryffindor holding a black kitten on her shoulder stopped dead in her tracks, looking at the carriages as though they were sprouting wings and belching flame. The girl's cornflower blue eyes welled with tears, and Hermione followed their weepy gaze to the front of the carriage, where a monster waited with snake's eyes and a pale horse's ribs. The girl could see the Thestrals. Judging by the devastation in her mien, she knew what it meant as well as Hermione did, and she wondered what friend the waxen child had lost.

The lake was a dull grey today, and the grass barely clung to life. Hermione involuntarily scanned the landscape, and memories mingled with the blood in her mouth, making a taste very like ashes. Here Harry had stood against Voldemort, and there Dumbledore had watched it happen. By that venerable oak had Ginny battled Bellatrix. Here Lucius Malfoy had fallen, and there Hermione herself, who'd killed him.

The castle had more ghosts than walked through walls and showered icy cold on unsuspecting students. For Hermione at least, Hogwarts was forever haunted.

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><p>AN: I don't know how random Ron's tobacco-scented hair seemed, but I had a boyfriend in high school who smelled that way. It was nice, actually, but I could never figure out why, since he didn't smoke. Anyway, I thought it was a nice way to personalize the scene.


	2. Changes

Disclaimer: I'm not even British, so how can I be J.K.R.?

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><p>Severus Snape had been through seven levels of Hell in his life, but staff meetings beat them all. Binns droning on about how things had gone downhill since he was alive, Flitwick falling out of his chair, Hagrid snoring...McGonagall. Somehow she was the worst, but not because she was annoying. Minerva always sat ramrod straight, listening intently, offering the occasional insight. But all the while Snape could see her exhaustion. Her war wounds sapped her energy, and she wasn't the youngest of women anyway. There were bags under her eyes every day now, and she never accepted the Dreamless Sleep potion Snape offered.<p>

Today, though, she seemed different. Snape wouldn't have said it was possible for her to sit any taller than usual, but she managed. Her eyes were darting warily about, but she was almost vibrating with supressed knowledge and a thousand buried concerns. Snape followed her gaze to Dumbledore, and his eyes narrowed. The old man looked decidedly smug.

Professor Sprout walked in, and Dumbledore rose from his armchair. Sweeping to the middle of the room in his bright orange robes, he clapped his hand together. "Well, now that we're all here, shall we begin? I have a few matters I particularly want to address, but I'll let you begin with your personal concerns."

And wasn't that thoughtful of him? Snape rubbed his hands together, trying to massage some of the cold out of them. There was a massive fire crackling in the staffroom hearth, but still the chill seeped in. As close as he wrapped his cloak about him, Snape still could not get warm. He suspected that for the wool to serve its purpose, he would have to wear it in his skin.

Sprout cleared her throat meaningfully, and began, "If we could begin budgeting for repairs to the castle-I mean, it seems like something that should have been done months ago-" She stopped as Dumbledore raised a pale finger.

"If you don't mind, Pomona, we'll return to that a little later." Sprout nodded, and Flitwick squeaked about prefects. Snape stopped listening. The Head Girl was the youngest Weasley, and the Head Boy was a flashy Muggleborn Ravenclaw-Thomas Marinack. All he needed to know about the top students could be thus summed up.

Then he heard a pair of names that jerked him back into the meeting. "What about Neville and 'ermione?" This, of course, from Hagrid.

Dumbledore tilted his head in acknowledgment. "Ah yes, and we come to one of the most important points. Mr. Longbottom is fairly simple. Pomona, I believe you planned to offer the boy an apprenticeship after he graduated. Do you still wish to train the boy?"

"He's sharp," Sprout replied promptly, "and if he wants to do Herbology, there's no student I'd rather have."

The headmaster beamed. "As I happened upon Mr. Longbottom in Diagon Alley this summer, laden down with books on protecting magical gardens from avian pests, I suspect he has not altered in his desires. I would like to suggest that you begin working with him this year, rather than the next. He has always been something of an awkward child"-here Snape could not hold back a snort, but refrained from further comment because Dumbledore was gazing severely at him over the length of his nose-"and this year will be particularly hard for him, as most of his friends will be absent. It would be nice for him to have something to occupy his time besides schoolwork." Sprout nodded understanding.

"Now, Miss Granger is a trickier case. How many of you feel that she could succeed in your field?"

Every hand but Trelawney's went up. Even Snape reluctantly raised his to shoulder level, trying not to meet his colleagues' surprised gazes.

"Yes, she is a very talented young woman," Dumbledore went on, "and she seems to enjoy all of her subjects. But she hasn't yet displayed any passion for any of them. I think it would be of benefit to her to spend a year exploring all of her options. I already have something in mind that would enable her to retain flexibility while acquiring depth, but if you will let me hold off on that for a minute, I can explain it better.

"Before I get to the main point of this meeting, are there any other matters that need discussion?" Dumbledore looked around the room for a moment, but nobody indicated a desire to speak, and he continued.

"Since the final battle, Minerva and I have been concerned about the state of affairs around the castle. The wards are acting odd. The ghosts are unusually hostile. The house elves are uneasy. And the trees of the Forbidden Forest are proceeding up the hill, despite all attempts to curb their growth." Dumbledore had been staring at his steepled fingers; now he looked up, and his blue eyes were grave. The staff members shifted uncomfortable under the force of his stare. When he went on, his voice was low, and even Snape's trained ears had to strain to hear him. "Hogwarts is rapidly growing unsafe for the students."

Snape had seen this coming from the start of the dramatic speech about the abnormalities in the wards, but the gasps around him told him his colleagues were more startled. His eyes flitted about the room, gauging their reactions. McGonagall was the only one who didn't look shocked. This must have been what was on her mind.

Dumbledore sighed softly. "Over the past century, this castle has seen more of the Dark than in all its previous history. The cumulative effect is simply too much. I have come to believe that, painful as the idea is, this school cannot continue to exist in the same location or the same building." Here he made the mistake of pausing, and everybody began talking all at once, but Snape sneered and Dumbledore stared, and eventually the staff calmed down.

"I know this is not a welcome thought, but it is time to face facts. Minerva and I have already applied to the Board of Governors and to the Ministry for money to start afresh. We have asked for and received fifteen million Galleons from the Ministry."

Snape started, and someone whistled. The sum was enormous, almost half of the Ministry's annual budget. How had he missed this?

"Of course, there have been donors other than our government. The total sum comes to approximately twenty-five million. The French Ministry, as well as the Australian and the Russian, have all been extremely generous. For some years, we have been trying to arrange an exchange program with these countries, and we hope that now that we can begin anew, that will be possible.

"I know this is quite a bit to process, but I want you to begin considering how this will affect you as soon as possible. Many of your supplies and textbooks cannot be taken with you. Professor Ubitum, I know this is a lot to ask of you in your first term, but I'm afraid that you and Professor Flitwick will have to go through the rarest books of the library, to see if they can be saved." Ubitum, a mouse of a man whom Snape had hated on sight, grinned at the idea of a chance to show off. "Unless they are extremely valuable or dangerous, we will simply have to leave them behind. As I'm sure we all realize, the cost of rescuing books from foreign influences is very high, both in gold and magic, and it is better to avoid that as much as possible.

"About the portraits: we are going to use stone barriers as entrances to the common rooms. As soon as we have informed the students about the change, which I plan to do tonight, at the feast, we are going to begin moving the portraits to Gringotts. Strange things happen to portraits faced with Dark magic, and we cannot afford to leave them here any longer.

"More precious than all the painting and books combined are, naturally, the students. If it is at all possible, we would like to have done most of the planning for the castle by the end of this term, so that we can buy land and begin construction in the next. If we work hard and spend the money to have the construction done magically, I hope we can move into our new home the very next year."

Snape frowned thoughtfully. The pace was going to have to be frantic for that to happen, and he knew he'd be doing a lot of the work. To be fair, Dumbledore would be in the middle of it, too, but that hardly made him feel better. He should have retired when he had the chance.

"Here is where Hermione Granger comes in. She represents something to everyone who sees her. She survived a war and could easily have gone straight on to Auror training, but she _came back_. She's a Muggleborn, but she's popular with a number of Purebloods. She symbolizes hope and scholarship both, a potent symbol both on the school level and in the global arena. I want to make Miss Granger a part of the preparations for the new school, let her help us plan the grounds, the classrooms, that sort of thing. Each of you will need to make contributions to the project. Invite her to assist. She'll be a symbolic and a practical aide, and she may find what she wants to do.

"I think that's all I have to say on the subject at the moment. Any questions?"

Snape didn't bother to signal, as the rest of the teachers were doing. He simply asked "Houses?"

Dumbledore's eyes rested on him with unsettling understanding. "It has yet to be determined whether the old house system will remain in place. We'll talk to students and parents, but in the end it will come down to a vote of the staff."

Snape's thin lips compressed in displeasure. The rest of the teachers, particularly the heads of houses, were sentimental about the system. They had never seen its dark side, the way he had.

Dumbledre and McGonagall answered question after question, none posed by Snape. He was thinking hard, and barely knew to stand when the meeting was adjourned. He was making his way to the door, ignoring the chatter arising from the other professors. He had almost escaped when Dumbledore called him back. "Severus! May I speak to you in my office, please?"

He should have seen that coming. Merlin only knew what the old man wanted, but it couldn't be good. Was it too late to buy a cottage on the Greek islands?


	3. Portraits

Disclaimer: I'm not even British, so how can I be J.K.R.?

A/N: It's been a while, I know, and there are other stories that need my attention more, but this is the one I feel like writing right now.

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><p>Hermione didn't even make it to the Gryffindor table. She walked into the Great Hall, glanced up at the enchanted ceiling, and stopped dead in her tracks. Where were the stars? The stars had gone. In their place was a swirling mess of dull red. Occasionally among the eddies of rust was a flash of yellowed white. The whole picture turned Hermione's stomach.<p>

She could feel her knees beginning to buckle, and she reached for Ginny. The younger Gryffindor took her hand and followed her eyes. Feeling the exact moment when Ginny's hand clenched against hers in horror, Hermione turned her head to look at her friend. Ginny had blanched, but she stayed steady, stepping forward and guiding Hermione. Holding hands and looking down at their feet, the two reached their table at last and sank down.

The ordeal was over. Hermione looked up, and _that_ happy illusion vanished. Draco Malfoy sat directly across from her at the Slytherin table. Goyle sat like a sadistic gargoyle on his left, but there was an empty seat to his right. In fact, there were empty seats all up and down the Slytherin table, seats representing far more students than were absent from any of the other three houses. But there sat Malfoy, cool and calm and crisp as ever, wearing the crest of the House of Malfoy over his school robes. She'd forgotten that he was the head of his house now. Sobered by the war, he resembled his father more than ever.

The only safe course was to look directly at her food. Hermione focused on her pumpkin juice. It at least looked cheerful. Hermione drank three glasses of it, and choked down a piece of bread with butter. At Ginny's urging, she took exactly eight peas, but managed only seven of them.

Sitting there, trying to enjoy herself, was so miserable that Hermione almost wished to be at home again. But really, Hogwarts was her home, and she knew that after she got over the shock of being back on a place she had last seen as a battlefield, she would be calmed. For now, she was just proud that she at last mustered up the courage to survey the first years as they were sorted. The Sorting last year had been a joke, and since the Board of Directors had declared the last school year null and void, there were twice as many small, big-eared boys and girls as usual.

The other difference was that half of the students being sorted didn't look bewildered and frightened. Hermione wondered what they did feel. Their previous year at Hogwarts must have been horrible, and it was a shame that torture and terror would be their first memories of the school. Much milder first-year remembrances of loneliness and longing for a place to belong had coloured her own school experience for the next five years.

The wave of disorientation that swept over Hermione was so strong that she was relieved when someone laid an anchoring hand on her shoulder. It was Professor McGonagall. Hermione hadn't even thought to look up at the staff table, but now she shot a glance. She recognised everybody but a plump woman and a small man with a brown comb-over.

Professor McGonagall favoured her with a tired smile. "Miss Granger, good to see you. I look forward to talking to you later, but at the moment I am here only to deliver a summons. The headmaster is about to give his speech. He has asked that you join him in his office when he finishes."

Hermione nodded. She had dealt with Professor Dumbledore for long enough to know that asking why he wanted her would do her no good. Dumbledore operated on a need-to-know basis. If he had thought that he could get her up to his office and hold a conversation with her without her ever knowing it was occurring, he would have done so.

Professor Dumbledore stood just as the Transfiguration professor sat down. He greeted them all, introduced the new staff members-the woman was the new Muggle Studies professor, a Professor Waters, and the man was the Defense against the Dark Arts professor. Hermione didn't catch his name because she was watching Snape's face to see how he felt about going back to teaching Potions. In fact, why was he still teaching at all? Harry was safe. He didn't need to do it anymore.

Ginny stood suddenly, and Dumbledore explained, "Because of the disruptions last year, our Head Boy and Head Girl will be sixth years. They may or may not reprise their duties next year. I assure you, both Miss Weasley and Mr. Marinack are quite capable of assisting you in any way you need.

"Now, a few matters of safety. We ask that you do not go in the Forbidden Forest, as it is forbidden for a reason." Hermione almost stopped listening at that point, but a moment later she was glad she hadn't. "We also ask that you maintain a safe distance from the lake, as the area around it is slippery, and there are rocks." Hermione looked at Ginny, who had taken her seat, and the redhead frowned back at her. That was new. Hermione wouldn't have said that the area around the lake was particularly hazardous.

"Also, please remember that students fourth year and under are required travel in groups of three or more anywhere outside the castle itself. We encourage older students to travel in pairs." Hermione's eyes narrowed. Of course, after the events of last year, the school administrators must be going to great lengths to reassure worried parents, but this seemed to be taking it a bit too far.

Dumbledore sat down, and dessert was served. Hermione couldn't have eaten more anyway, she she didn't mind when Professor Dumbledore rose and nodded farewell to his staff members, presumably about to head to his office to meet with her. She was a bit surprised that neither Professor Snape nor Professor McGonagall followed, though. Usually at least one of them attended his talks.

Hermione let thirty seconds lapse before she followed her headmaster. Still, she moved much faster than him, and she caught up to him at the top of a staircase. She matched her pace to his, but he didn't say anything until they were at the bottom of his stairs, whereupon he said "Blood lollipops," and the gargoyle turned. They ascended the steps slowly.

Dumbledore's office was drastically changed. The gadgets were gone, and so were the portraits of past headmasters. There remained only a neat desk with a stack of parchment on it, a perch whereon Fawkes was evidently sleeping and molting, and two squishy blue chairs. Hermione took the one before the desk, and Dumbledore sat down in the one behind it.

He asked her polite questions about her friends and she answered dutifully, but the only news in which he displayed any genuine interest was Harry's current situation. She said yes, Harry liked Auror training. Yes, Harry was still rooming with Ron. No, Harry didn't know whether he was going to be an actual Auror or simply go into a related field. About Hermione herself, Dumbledore asked little, though, to his credit, he did extend an offer to talk to her about her parents, who were having trouble forgiving Hermione for wiping their memories.

With the pleasantries out of the way, Dumbledore steepled his fingers and looked down his long, crooked nose at Hermione. "Miss Granger," he said, "to say that you have found your classes less than challenging would be something of an understatement. You have skated through six years at Hogwarts." He must have seen the offense in her eyes, because he added, "I did not mean to imply that you have not worked hard, only that I suspect you needn't have. You could have earned Es or Os with very little study, if I am not mistaken.

"You are an exceptionally bright young woman, Miss Granger, and the teachers and I have decided that your senior year merits an exceptional project. If you accept this project, it would be the sole basis for your evaluation this year. Your teachers have agreed to remove all requirements of work from you, but-" he raised his hand to quell the protest on her tongue, "-you would of course be permitted to audit whatever classes you chose.

"Make no mistake, Miss Granger. This would be a heavy burden. As I explain this project, I want you to bear in mind that it would require your nights, your weekends, and part of your Christmas holiday. However, by the end, you would have gained thorough knowledge of every subject taught at this school, and you would know something of many that are not offered here."

Hermione swallowed. She wished the headmaster could just be clear about his intent. "What exactly would this project entail, sir?"

He leaned forward a little. "The Ministry is concerned about the history of this building. It does, after all, have a secret basilisk chamber and a border with one of the darkest woods in magical Britain. To improve public relations, they want us to move to a new location." Hermione gasped, but Professor Dumbledore didn't pause.

"We have a chance to rebuild the school, to fix major problems in its design, and we want your help. You would work with each teacher to do various things in the building and contribute your own perspective as to what could be improved.

"As I have said, this would be a very demanding undertaking, particularly as we are operating under time constraints." He didn't say why that was, and Hermione filed the omission away for further study at a later date. "remember, though, that in addition to the knowledge gained, you would also have a network of contacts in a variety of fields and you would be in a position to do the Wizarding World a great service.

"You don't have to decide now."

Hermione waved that away. "I'll do it, sir." He looked surprised at her haste, but how could she not help? It sounded difficult, but she could already imagine the towers rising. Towers would rise that she, Muggleborn know-it-all teacher's-pet Hermione Granger, had helped to create. "I'll do it," she repeated. She wasn't sure she liked leaving Hogwarts, but if it had to be done, she would be a part of it.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Very well. Take these two sheets and peruse them at your leisure. One of them is a starting point for the project itself, and another is an outline of your duties. I'm afraid that one may be rather exhaustive and tedious; Professor Snape handled that particular task." His eyes twinkled, and Hermione grinned. She could only imagine what Snape thought about working with her.

As Dumbledore began to straighten the parchment on his desk, Hermione saw that she had been dismissed. She got up, clutching the two lists in one hand, and left silently.

Walking through bars of light and dark on her way to the Gryffindor tower, Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that something as odd about the castle, but it wasn't until she reached the spot where the Fat Lady should have been that she realised what it was. There were no portraits anywhere in the castle. Not on the ground floor, not between the Great Hall and Dumbledore's office, and not between that office and the tower.

There were no portraits. The lake was off-limits. Students were advised not to walk alone. And in the Great Hall, all the stars had gone.


	4. Decisions and Suspicions

Hermione woke early the next morning and couldn't go back to sleep, so she cast an illumination charm and reread the lists Dumbledore had given her over and over. The first was in a long, flowing hand that might have been Professor McGonagall's. It read:

_Site-animals, Quidditch pitch, grounds, environs  
>(Currently there are two possible sites, one in<em> _Scotland and the_ _other in northern England.)  
>Castle- architecture, classrooms, dormitories, kitchens and dining hall, etc.<br>Library  
>Classes- reworking, addition<br>Recreation- rooms, grounds  
>Security- wards, guards<br>Transportation for students  
>Housing for professors and students<br>_

The second list was really a contract, and it was in Snape's spiky hand. She could actually see the malice in each scratched letter. With a pettiness characteristic of him but odd for such an otherwise great man, he had written the list in emerald green, and he never referred to her by name. Since he had clearly had to create a fresh contract for her, she was meant to take it personally.

_DUTIES: THE APPRENTICE SHALL  
>-attend any and all staff meetings.<br>-be available on weekends and school holidays, excepting personal breaks.  
>-take clear and accurate notes regarding all work done, progress made, and setbacks suffered.<br>-keep a full record of any and all expenses incurred in the performance of his/her duties.  
>-be ever respectful and obedient to hisher superiors.  
>-maintain strict standards of discretion regarding knowledge that heshe gains in the process of doing her duty as an apprentice. If asked about his/her duties, the apprentice shall demur, and shall if pressed claim to be a mere teaching assistant.  
>-serve as a teaching assistant for any Hogwarts professor requiring aid.<br>-enter into no other employment or apprenticeship during the apprenticeship here formed.  
><em>-fully master the principles of wandless magic.<br>-assist in the preparation of materials required by professors for the performance of their duties._  
>-take an exam at the end of the apprenticeship. Said exam will take the form of a defense of the work the apprentice has done.<em>

_RIGHTS: THE APPRENTICE SHALL_  
><em>-know no curfew or forbidden areas within the grounds of the workplace (Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry), save the private quarters and offices of professors and other students.<em>  
><em>-receive a monthly stipend of twenty (20) Galleons.<em>  
><em>-retain the rights to all hisher professional discoveries and inventions._  
><em>-have food and housing provided by the Masters.<br>-spend at least one (1) week of each school break with his/her family._  
><em>-be released from all normal classes, assignments, and exams.<em>  
><em>-receive at the end of hisher apprenticeship a private evaluation by each Hogwarts professor and Master._

_The apprenticeship shall end upon the completion of the construction of a the new Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
><em>

_This contract may be terminated at any point, for any reason, by any of the parties involved. If the apprentice terminates the relationship, he/she shall be permitted to resume the role of normal student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and to sit for the applicable exams.  
><em>

Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall had all signed, but the other professors had not. Hermione suspected this meant that they were not as intimately involved, but she couldn't be sure without going to the library, which she intended to do immediately after breakfast. She had no idea what was standard for wizard contracts, and she was concerned by the lack of a time frame. Dumbledore had said that they would be operating under time constraints, but that wasn't particularly specific.

She took comfort in the fact that although Snape might find it funny to tether her to a project for ten years, Dumbledore would not. And she could get out of it whenever she wanted. Still, she'd really have to read up a bit on wizarding law.

Hermione didn't know how long she sat there, reading and rereading. Then light stabbed her eyes as someone she couldn't see drew her bed curtains back. The willowy outline of Ginny Weasley appeared, limned in the pale gold of morning. Hermione's faint _Lumos_ almost disappeared in the much brighter light, and she finally ended the charm.

"What're you looking at?" Ginny asked, reaching out for the contract.

Hermione jerked it back before it occurred to her that she ought to have tried for nonchalance. When it did, she shrugged a little. "Lists of school supplies." Technically she hadn't signed the contract requiring her to lie yet, but she doubted Dumbledore would appreciate her giving his plans away, particularly given that Hermione thought the reason he had given her for the move was a load of nonsense. Dumbledore wasn't one to bend to Ministry pressure. If he abandoned this building, it was because he knew it had to be abandoned.

Ginny looked a bit suspicious, but withdrew her hand. "You should get ready. Breakfast is in a quarter of an hour."

Hermione nodded and swung her legs over the side of her bed. She was dressed and ready in ten minutes, and she preceded the other girls down to breakfast. She had been criticized for not taking care with makeup or her hair, but this negligence had its benefits. Hermione usually slept in later than the other girls, and she never had to spend hours in the bathroom redoing her eyeshadow after a steamy day in Potions.

When she got down to breakfast, Hermione had stowed the papers safely in her bag. She tried to look as though she was experiencing nothing out of the ordinary, but she couldn't resist a glance at the staff table. Professor McGonagall caught her eye and she smiled. Snape was glaring into a mug of what she assumed was tea. She wondered if it was growing cold from the ice in his gaze. What did he have to be upset about?

Having eaten hastily, Hermione excused herself to Ginny and a fifth-year girl whose name she couldn't quite remember. She was at the library door moments later, for she had always grown wings if there was a chance to roam among the books.

Hermione pushed the door open and took two steps in. She stopped thereafter, gasping at what she saw. The shelves nearest her (Fiction: Historical and Romance) were completely empty. She could where the books had been and where they hadn't through the thickness of the dust that covered the shelves, but also because she had walked past those shelves a hundred, a thousand times. Madam Pince was nowhere to be seen, and Hermione frowned.

Unnerved, she continued deeper into the room. She knew exactly where to go because as Harry's life had grown in complexity and danger, magical law had comprised a large part of his friends' research. Yet none of them had ever had cause to look into private contracts. Ron probably knew something about them, but it wasn't a topic that came up in everyday conversation. She almost wished she could have simply asked Ginny, but that would have been indiscreet. Besides, she had missed this library over the summer.

At last the shelf she wanted came into view, and she ran her hand over the books until she came to a dark red book on an honourable wizard's private and public obligations. A mere glance in the index told Hermione that the tome was overly flowery and self-important, but there was a section on employment contracts.

Hermione had been half expecting to find that Snape had slipped a secret wizarding loophole in the document, so that he owned her soul and could torture her for eternity, but she was surprised to find that the contract actually seemed to be unusually generous. Muggle apprentices were never paid, she knew, and it seemed that wizarding apprentices usually paid for the privilege of working under Masters. Wizarding apprentices also counted themselves lucky to get three days of break per year, and here she had two weeks. She hadn't thought one week per break particularly generous, but evidently it was.

As for the concept of a "Master," the title had originally referred to the head of a studio. Hermione supposed that Snape, McGonagall, and Dumbledore were analogous to head artists, but she didn't quite understand how she related to the other professors. The nearest situation she saw was one in which senior apprentices had control over junior apprentices. Apparently Masters had the right and the responsibility to regulate interactions among their apprentices.

Nowhere could Hermione find anything that justified either a requirement of deceit, which at least she understood, or a wandless-magic clause, which she did not. She resolved to accept the former and ask Dumbledore about the latter.

A few minutes into her research, Hermione had firmly decided to take the apprenticeship under some form of the contract, so she wasn't worried about missing Transfiguration. She fully intended to audit as many of her classes as possible, but Professor McGonagall would know why she was absent. It had also occurred to Hermione that the class would be depressingly small, consisting of all the remaining seventh-years interested in the subject. She wasn't sure that she wanted a reminder of how many people she knew had died or abandoned their studies.

Hermione spent a long while researching apprenticeships, and then shifted to wizarding architecture. It seemed to be an almost paralyzingly broad topic, but she found an overview. It assumed a bit more knowledge of Transfiguration than she had, but she was able to follow most of it. She rapidly became absorbed in her work, and by the time she thought to cast a _Tempus_ charm, it was lunchtime. She had only gotten a few dense chapters in. Hermione went to Madam Pince's desk to check out her book, but the librarian was still mysteriously missing. She returned the text to its place on the shelf, rolled her contract up into a neat cylinder in her hand, and went off in search of Dumbledore.

When she arrived at the foot of Dumbledore's staircase, Hermione greeted the gargoyle nervously. Wizarding researchers were of very different minds on the sentience of gargoyles, with estimates ranging from that of a small beetle to slightly smarter than a human. Hermione made a point of being polite to them, just in case. Yet if this gargoyle was listening, it gave no sign. It remained in its usual position until she said "blood lollipops." Dumbledore must not have seen the need to change his password, because the gargoyle turned, if not obligingly, at least quickly.

Had there been a bell, Hermione would have used it, and she wished there had been one. She felt somewhat guilty for barging in unannounced, but after all, if Dumbledore had really wanted to remain undisturbed, no doubt he was capable of locking the door with more than the name of a (completely unappetizing) sweet. This suspicion was confirmed when she walked into the office itself. The headmaster smiled at her from his chair behind the desk and said, "Ah, Miss Granger. When I heard you had missed your classes this morning, I thought I should see you soon. The last time you spoke, you were eager to participate in our project. Have you confirmed your decision in books?"

Hermione took the chair to which Dumbledore gestured, and almost jumped out of her skin when she realized that the shadows behind her and to her left were actually her Potions professor. Snape didn't say anything, but some slight movement made his thick cloak ripple. Trying to ignore his presence, Hermione said, "I have. I want to do the apprenticeship. But, sir... The contract..."

Snape made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. "No doubt she's going to want to spend breaks at home with Mummy and Daddy."

Over the summer, Hermione had sometimes wondered if Snape was nasty by nature or as part of his spy's facade. She was beginning to think he was exactly the bitter old misanthrope he seemed. Thanks to Occam and his razor for that one.

Her throat clenched up as she said, "No, Professor, it's not the breaks. It's this point, here." She unrolled her contract and pointed unnecessarily at it. "Why do I have to learn wandless magic?" She hastened to add, "Not to be disrespectful, sir, but I only wondered..."

Dumbledore didn't seem annoyed. "Why it was relevant?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well, Severus, that was your addition. Why don't you explain to Miss Granger why she has to learn wandless magic?"

Here again Hermione couldn't help herself. 'I can do a little," she said. She wished she could see Snape's face, but then it was probably a mercy that she couldn't.

He said softly, "_Because, Miss Granger, _wands are fragile, and they have a tendency to get lost. _Because, Miss Granger,_ the enemy is not going to let you retain your wand. _Because, Miss Granger__, _it is a secret you can use to your advantage. _And because, Miss Granger,_ there is no better way to develop overall magical strength than to remove your crutch.

"By the end of this year at the latest, I will expect you to be fully functional without your crutch. That means, _Miss Granger_, that you must be able to do everything you can do with your wand, and some more besides, since, really, to call you functional as you now are is a disgrace to the art of magic." "Mudblood" was a pet name compared to her name in his mouth.

Hermione didn't know quite where to fix her eyes when he had done, so she looked at Dumbledore. His own blue eyes seemed sad, but he just said mildly, "Come now, Severus. To call Miss Granger merely functional is a disgrace to honesty."

Hermione snuck a look over her shoulder and immediately wished she hadn't. Snape glowered.

"I had another concern, sir," she said. "There's no time frame for the construction, and I'm concerned about tying myself to one commitment for too long."

Dumbledore seemed, once again, to understand. "Very well, then. Please give me the contract, Miss Granger." He ignored Snape's mutters about coddling and took out a quill. "Does two years, beginning today, satisfy?"

Hermione nodded. Dumbledore added a sentence of his own below one of Snape's and showed it to Hermione. She would now be released either with the completion of the school or with the end of two years, whichever came first. Taking the quill from Dumbledore, Hermione signed her name on the line designated by the word "Apprentice." She tried to hand the paper to Dumbledore, but he shook his head.

"Keep it, Miss Granger. We have a copy already, and you may want to reference it at a later date. Take also this piece of paper." He pulled a sheet of parchment from the many on his desk and held it out to her. Hermione took it nervously. "It's a schedule," Dumbledore explained. Your professors and I will post notices here about things like staff meetings, and if you're needed for a specific part of the project on a given day, it will appear on the schedule," Dumbledore explained.

Hermione looked down at the parchment. Staff meetings were every Monday and Thursday, directly after dinner. It seemed that on Saturday, she was spending time with McGonagall and Snape doing who knew what.

"Now, Severus and I were about to go to lunch. Would you like to accompany us?"

Hooray. Quality time with Snape. Hermione tried to smile. "Certainly, sir."

At dinner, Neville asked why she hadn't been in any of his classes. Hermione didn't answer for a moment, struck as she was by his lack of nerves. Physically, Neville was much the same as he had always been, but he was much more confident. She realized, even without ever seeing him in Potions, that he wouldn't need her to whisper instructions anymore. Snape couldn't scare the boy who'd saved the professor's life by killing Nagini just before she struck.

"Hermione?" Hermione blinked.

"Oh, sorry, Neville. I was just thinking. No, I may not be in class a lot of the time. The professors have asked me to help them, and in exchange I can work around the NEWTs."

A moment later, she wished she hadn't said anything. She was swamped in questions about the arrangement, and she made up answers left and right. She tried to stick as close to the truth as possible, but even so, the lies started to blur together. Every so often, Hermione caught sight of Ginny's face. The youngest Weasley was staring at Hermione with narrowed eyes. For all his new-found confidence, Neville wouldn't dream that Hermione was lying to him, but Ginny Weasley wasn't to be fooled so easily.

* * *

><p>Draco drummed his fingers on the cool wood of the Slytherin table. Granger had her back to him, so he couldn't read her lips, but he could see the people around her, and they were agitated and confused. Newts-NEWTs or the animals, he wasn't sure which. Something about "it makes sense."<p>

Reading lips was his father's game. Draco had a box full of such inherited tricks. His mother could hand-decorate drugged cakes; his father had been a whiz at intercepting owls. The Malfoys had never been a domestic family in the traditional sense of the word, but they had always tried to help their son.

The train of thought was not a pleasant one, and only reminded Draco that he had promised to write his mother at least twice a week. He tried to focus back on Granger, which just made him think of his father. Anyway, the conversation seemed to have turned to a gentler course. Shifting his gaze slightly, Draco caught Ginny Weasley's eye. She was staring straight at him without flinching. Willing his hand not to shake, Draco raised his goblet to her and drained it.

She enunciated clearly, slowly, and silently, shaping each word carefully so that he could read her lips without any trouble. _Bugger off_.

Draco got himself more pumpkin juice and went to toast her again, but she'd looked away. Pursing his lips ironically, Draco drank to himself.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm trying not to bore you with too much setup, but the building of an entirely new school is a very, very complicated process, so it's vital that Hermione (and the readers, and the author, if we're being honest) understands exactly what's going to have to happen.

Also, I find it impossible to imagine Hermione not doing research before she made a decision.


	5. Jumping at Shadows

Disclaimer: I know nothink! (Translation: Please don't sue, J.K.R. or guy who wrote Hogan's Heroes.)

* * *

><p>Ginny Weasley was not a worrier. Still, there was something alarming about the blue blackness of the castle. Prefects walked the rounds in pairs, but the Head Girl and Boy tended to go alone. Thomas Marinack and a few pairs of prefects took the shift right after curfew, the teachers wandered throughout the night, and Ginny alone got the morning shift. From four to five for the last week she had roamed in the muted, ghostly patches of colour from the stained-glass windows.<p>

It was deathly quiet, and Ginny tried not to breathe too loudly. She hated this shift, blatantly unnecessary as it was. Nothing stirred. No one tried to tiptoe away from her. Nothing wanted to be up at this hour of the morning.

The silence shifted. Accustomed as she was to the castle's nocturnal sighs-every old building had them-Ginny couldn't stop herself from whipping around. A tapestry of a rabbit in an old castle garden stared back at her like a vacant green eye.

The shift came again. Ginny thought it was like the echo of a pebble dropping into the lake. The Head Girl shivered a little and drew her cloak tighter about her. It was getting colder. Winter was coming early. Through the soles of her shoes, the flagstones were like ice.

Someone touched her left shoulder. Very slowly, barely breathing for fear she would panic if she made any sudden moves, Ginny Weasley turned her head. There was no one there. Then something brushed past her on her other side, heading from in front of her to behind her. Ginny started running.

She only slowed when she reached the entrance to the Gryffindor tower. She almost missed it because she was expecting not the discreet stone door she saw, but the Fat Lady. Ginny muttered to the door, and it swung open without a sound. She stepped into the empty common room and almost jumped out of her skin. There was something moving by the hearth!

It was a house elf lighting the fire. He(?) flip-flopped his ears a few times and said, "Pulley is sorry, Miss. Pulley was not thinking Miss was awake. Pulley will go now."

Ginny shook her head and was about to say that she was just going to go upstairs, but the elf disappeared with a crack. It was actually surprising that the sound didn't wake people every morning, but the house elves knew their business. The hearth blazed up suddenly with golden flame, and Ginny settled herself in an armchair. Wrapping her arms about her knees, she closed her eyes and basked in the warmth of the fire.

* * *

><p>Snape waited in the shadows, tapping his foot. He was good at lurking. Contrary to public opinion, though, he didn't actually <em>like<em> it, and he had been in this niche for a while. It had held a sculpture once, but even with their limited range of motion, magical sculptures were dangerous to have in a castle going rogue. Snape leaned against the pedestal (Hettius Fugle, 1614-78) and tapped his foot a little faster.

After a while, the sound was starting to grate on his nerves. "_Tempus_," he whispered. _4:29_. In six minutes, Dumbledore would pass by on his way from his chambers to his office to get in some work before the students began to stir. For someone who dealt with spies on a regular basis, the headmaster was surprisingly ignorant of or apathetic to the perils of routine. Snape was glad of it; it made his job easier.

Ginny Weasley passed by at a run. Snape almost called after her, but she didn't have her wand out and she wasn't screaming for help. All the Potions master did was snap his fingers. A gossamer cord snaked itself across the corridor and blended exactly into the stone. Snape pulled his fingers back, and the string tensed about a foot above ground level. If Miss Weasley was being pursued by a student or even a ghost, her follower would be hard-pressed to avoid tripping.

No one came. Snape was about to retract the cord when he heard the mildest of coughs. "Really, Severus."

"Oh, it's _you_." Snape stepped into the weak light of the hall and snapped his fingers irritably. The strand faded away completely.

Dumbledore raised his bushy white eyebrows. "May I ask for whom you were setting a trap at this ungodly hour of the morning? Not a student, I hope."

"I don't know. Weasley was running away from something. I wanted to find out what."

"Not me, surely." Dumbledore frowned a little, but his eyes were twinkling.

"No. Not you." Snape looked back in the direction of the fleeting girl and abandoned the subject. It was worthy of future study, but only much later, when he was assured of being alone. "I had something else I wanted to discuss with you."

Dumbledore assented readily enough. "Walk with me to my office, if you would."

Falling into step, Severus lost no time in getting to the point. "You lied to us. Oh, she wouldn't realize. Neither she nor Minerva has ever undertaken anything like this. Is it to be just her, then? Tradition would say no."

While Snape was speaking, the headmaster hadn't broken his stride. When his professor had finished, he stopped and replied without answering Snape's question. "I thought you'd figure it out, though I confess I'd rather expected to have more time before you caught on. What made you realize?"

"Your charming speech about _hope_ and _scholarship_ and _symbolism_."

"Nothing I said then was a lie. She does have great significance to everyone she meets."

"That she does," Snape responded bitterly. Why was it that he seemed to be the only person to whom she symbolized great irritation to come? Musing on her hand, constantly in the air begging for attention, he walked for a minute in silence, and then added, "She might not accept." But he knew she would. She'd hate the idea and she'd love the idea at once, and after all, she'd see it as a duty. She'd accept out of habit, if nothing else.

"I'm sorry for not telling you, Severus. I thought-"

"I _know_ what you thought. Besides, you were perfectly correct. I will leave as soon the construction is completed."

Snape started to stalk away, but Dumbledore called softly after him.

"She'll need you. To deal with this, she'll need you."

Snape stopped in his tracks, but didn't turn to face his old professor. "Like you needed me all these years?"

"My dear boy-"

"I'm tired. If you don't mind, we'll discuss this later." Still with his face averted, Snape added, "Just her?"

"Just her."

Shaking his head, Snape took off at a brisk walk and rounded a corner. _Just her_. Of course it would be just her. Never mind tradition, never mind that she was a controversy on legs, never mind that she would be terrified and isolated. Snape knew all about Dumbledore-imposed isolation, and it wasn't the most delightful experience he;d ever had.

All of a sudden, something made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, so he pulled his magic into his hands. It prickled in his fingertips and tickled at his palms, itching to be used, but the professor saw no one, and he let the magic disperse through the rest of his limbs. Checking a hunch, he let a little of the power remain in one crooked index finger, which he ran over the wall. "Revideam," he murmured.

Ginny Weasley came down the passage toward him, carrying her wand in one hand. It surprised him that she hadn't stowed it in a pocket, but she was clinging to it so tightly her fingers had gone white. She looked first over one shoulder, then the other. All at once, without any provocation as far as Snape could see, she broke into a long-legged canter, and then disappeared around the next corner. Even as she rounded the bend, her professor could see the vision's flying feet begin to fade. Dumbledore would see only her outline, if he saw her at all.

There was something about the space around her shoulders of which he didn't like the look at all. Snape stroked the wall. "Revideam."

The image ran past again and again disappeared. Snape put his finger to the wall and let it fall. "Revideam."

* * *

><p>It had only been a week, Hermione reflected mournfully, and she was already swamped with work. Assigning her a foot-long essay on animal transformations, McGonagall had shot her a sympathetic look. Sprout had almost refused to accept her assignment for Monday. Snape, naturally, threatened to ban her from his classroom if she<em> didn't <em>do the work. Then he made her stay after class, ostensibly to discuss her poor performance on an in-class assignment. Hermione's peers knew full well how ridiculous that was, but they just thought Snape was being nasty for nastiness' sake.

Hermione almost wished that were the case. The reality was that he was commissioning her services for Saturday. He and McGonagall were going to go out to the two sites proposed for the erection of the new castle, and Hermione was required to accompany them. She nodded acknowledgment and was about to leave, but she had to ask. "Professor Snape?" He didn't answer, but neither did he decapitate her on the spot, which was a good sign. "Why do I have to go? I mean, I can't possibly have any influence on the decision." _Can I?_

"Of course you can't, you stupid girl." Snape took an exaggeratedly deep breath and Hermione counted to ten in her mind. "I thought you wanted to learn something for once. If that's going to happen, you're going to need to be there for every step of the process. If your attention span can't handle that, we'll need to rethink our arrangement." He paused, pretending to wait for a response. Hermione wisely stayed silent. "Good. I'll see you in the Great Hall after breakfast tomorrow. Bring parchment and a cloak."

"Thank you, sir. I will, sir." She tipped her head in polite acknowledgement, and he kneaded his temples with two callused fingers.

"Granger."

She nodded again. "Yes, sir?"

"Granger..."

Hermione waited expectantly, but nothing more was forthcoming. After a minute, Snape's eyes narrowed. Hermione was beginning to get the sense that she should have left long ago. She turned on her heel, braced for the sharp bark of Snape's displeasure, but it didn't come.

Ginny ambushed her in the corridor outside the Potions room. "What did he want? Neville told me he made you stay after."

Hermione tried to laugh it off. "Just to offer some of his helpful pointers." She knew Snape could still hear her, and she ordinarily wouldn't have dreamed of being so disrespectful, but she was annoyed. What could he say, anyway? "She accused me of being helpful"? Irony was a wonderful thing.

Ginny wasn't deterred by the novelty of having Hermione willing to participate in disparaging a teacher. Hermione would have thought less of her if she had been. The redhead pursued the subject. "About what?"

"Apparently I still can't chop mandrake root properly."

"Hm."

"Or stir. Who'd have thought it was possible to be bad at stirring?" Hermione's past experiences made her performance more convincing. Snape really had chastised her once in fifth year for failing to stir properly. It had reduced her to tears. She had been decades younger then, though that had been just three years ago.

"Hm."

"I have to go to Herbology."

"Hm."

Hermione hastily parted from her friend, ignoring her newly emergent dislike of walking in the castle alone. Every wall shimmered before her tired eyes. For a moment, it was as though the walls were covered in Lucius Malfoy's blood. But she couldn't worry about that right now. She had to get away before Ginny asked questions she wasn't allowed to answer.

She made a mental note to talk to Dumbledore. She was beginning to wonder how long she could keep this secret from Ginny.


	6. The Mountain and the Moor

Disclaimer: My name is Regina Lacrimarum. I own no stories. Please, don't sue.

* * *

><p>Saturday morning was bright and blue, with the faintest hint of cloud. For all the beauty of the sky, Hermione wished she were inside the castle. It was chilly at nine o'clock that morning, and as Hermione headed down towards the gates that marked the boundary of Hogwarts, the wind was picking up. Blowing McGonagall's cloak around her, the gusts made her look like a Druid princess in the middle of a sacred rite. Snape just looked like Snape with the wind tugging at his robes.<p>

The professors greeted Hermione with widely differing amounts of pleasure and then they set out. As soon as they passed through the gates separating the school from the hazards of the world, McGonagall extended a hand and Hermione took it. She got a nasty shock when Snape took rough hold of her arm. She almost knocked it away, but stopped herself in time. McGonagall was carrying a bulky instrument in her other hand and Snape was nearer to Hermione, anyway.

Hermione just thanked her lucky stars that her hand was full, although she didn't imagine that Snape would have taken it anyway. She was holding a small grey book. On the first page she had pasted her contract and on the second she had put McGonagall's list of concerns about the castle. On the front was emblazoned in gold letters the legend "Hogwarts: A History." It was technically true, since she was essentially recording the history of a new Hogwarts, and it made damn sure that no one would think about messing with the book. According to Ginny, there were rumors that Hermione slept with a copy of this particular book. Ridiculous as the gossip was, Hermione was willing to use it.

A moment later Hermione felt the unpleasant sucking in her stomach that meant she was Apparating. When she recovered, she was on top of a hill in the most beautiful place she had ever seen. Rolling green hills spread out in all directions, though there was a suggestion of a town in the distance. Over the hill just to the east of the trio ran a merry little brook.

Looking about her in awe, Hermione didn't try to speak. Neither of the professors talked, either, but she thought that was professionalism more than wonder at the natural beauty of their surroundings. Snape was fiddling with a kind of tripod that had materialized from somewhere in his clothes and McGonagall was adjusting her bizarre instrument.

For lack of anything else to do, Hermione took out her book and wrote with her wand on the third page:

_England site_

_-Hills make for good Quidditch pitch. _Here Hermione paused for a moment and then dutifully recorded the negative aspect of this, though she liked the place already. _Poor visibility, though, and not much good for any other sports._

-_No dangerous areas like the Forbidden Forest._

_-No village for special weekends and so on.  
><em>

_-Hard to build the castle and foundations like this, though I imagine magic makes it easier.  
><em>

_-Shouldn't be any security problems.  
><em>

A sort of thunk-plink made Hermione look up to see McGonagall stepping back from the magical instrument with a look of satisfaction. "Miss Granger, come here, if you will."

Hermione stowed her notes under her arm and obeyed.

"Do you know what this is, Miss Granger?"

Hermione studied it for a second before replying. It was a wooden sphere a foot in diameter with a little metal diamond on the top and several spindly iron tentacles that dangled helplessly in the air. Here and there a serrated semicircle like half of a clock gear stuck out from a slit in the side. "It looks like it measures..." She took a stab. "Magical potential?"

McGonagall allowed herself a small smile. "Indeed. To be honest, though, I've never used it before. Severus, care to get it working?"

Thus applied to, Snape stepped forward and tapped the diamond thrice. A gold spark ran out from his finger to the silvery surface of the shape, which told Hermione that he was using wandless magic. The gears began to spin and click together within the sphere. The instrument rose slowly off the tripod and hovered in the air. Hermione thought it stayed there for two minutes, but she wasn't sure. During that time, Snape stood calmly with his hands folded behind his back and McGonagall was surveying the landscape. Hermione couldn't take her eyes off the sphere.

When the instrument-a tickling memory told Hermione it was a Knott's compass-settled back onto the tripod, Hermione saw that the diamond had shifted down and to the left. She came even closer to the compass to get a good look at the shift and saw that there were small markings running from 1 to 200 Kns in a circle around the diamond. Apparently the site had a magical potential of 162 Kns. Hermione had only a vague notion of what that meant but she dutifully recorded it in her grey book.

"Professor McGonagall," she asked timidly, "what exactly does 162 tell us?"

* * *

><p>"It's high, you dimwit," Snape snarled. Minerva gave him a reproving look, which he ignored. "Can't you read a scale?"<p>

"I can read-" To her great credit, Granger stopped herself there, though he could see he'd provoked her.  
>Out of respect for this rare show of self-control, Snape stooped to be helpful. He didn't have to be nice while he did it.<p>

"It tells us, _Miss Granger_, that this is an area of unusually high magical activity. It tells us, _Miss Granger_, that a school planted here would probably flourish. It tells us, _Miss Granger_, that spells will practically work themselves here."

He liked the way the girl flinched when he said her name, but even her obvious misery wasn't enough to cheer him up. He had visited both sites before and he had felt the high Knott reading at this one in the same way he felt a storm coming, felt it somewhere in his bones. Snape knew how attractive a child like Granger would find that. For himself, he couldn't stand all the green and the cloying mysticism of those hills. If you stuck in a shovel into one, what came out would probably be pure magic.

McGonagall explained, "Hogwarts has a Knott reading of 100, and 90 is standard for wizarding dwellings and public buildings. You don't want to make things difficult for yourself, but much harder than 90 is difficult to find. We were lucky this area was on the market."

Minerva insisted on walking the area for a good half hour more. It had to be for Granger's sake, because she had seen the place more often than Severus himself had. The student wrote busily in her book the whole time, pausing occasionally in her walking to note an unusual land formation. She had charmed her wand to act as a quill, which was a nice touch, but she really shouldn't have needed any writing tool at all. It was hard to believe she was the pride of Gryffindor.

With every step Granger took, Severus saw her loving the site more. It had fresh air and space for healthy running, everything the British schoolchild needed. That meant it was going to be this site chosen. Despite what Severus himself had told the girl about the irrelevance of her personal preference, he knew that Dumbledore would see to it that her selection was the final choice.

Still, there was still the formality of viewing the other site. Snape took Knott's compass from McGonagall and seized her hand. She extended her other hand to Granger and they were off.

They landed with a bit of bump, but Snape managed to stay upright. Granger couldn't say the same. She fell over and skidded a few feet, but her thick robes saved her any bruises or abrasions in which the fall might otherwise have resulted. As she got up, brushing the dirt from her robes, Snape saw the exact moment when she registered her surroundings. Her eyes went wide and her lips twitched oddly.

They were standing on rock at the base of a cliff, above which the point of a mountain could be seen. Here and there a few flowers grew, but there was mostly just rock for a hundred yards, at which point there was nothing. The three approached it and gazed solemnly over to where a few yards of jagged rocks led to a network of shallow pools on a vast moor of greyish green.

"Hippocampi live down there," McGonagall explained. "They don't like the sun, so they're probably underwater at the moment, but they come out to graze if it's cloudy and the plimpies are scarce." Granger only nodded without seeming to comprehend.

In a daze Granger led the way to the cliff and in a daze she climbed the small stairs Minerva showed her. In a daze she took in the vast, gently sloping area, a much larger ledge, and followed the increasing slope as it became a forbidding mountain.

Everywhere they went, Granger just stared. Snape had thought she had widened her eyes as far as they would go, but he had been wrong. As she stared, they stretched farther and farther up until he thought her eyebrows were going to crawl off her head.

Somehow, Snape hated to see anyone look at this place with such horror. "Well, _Miss Granger_," he asked sarcastically, "what do you think?"

Now she was staring back down to the lower of the two ledges and she didn't seem to hear him. Snape repeated his question, noting that it lost some of its impact when said a second time.

The girl turned and looked straight at him with a defiant look. "I think it's perfect."

Under his incredulous eyes, Granger flushed scarlet. "I mean, obviously we'd have to do something about students falling from the cliffs-oh, and bothering the hippocampi, since they're a protected species, I think. The castle and the Quidditch pitch can go up here, and then I think Hagrid might like to set up down below. He wouldn't live in the castle for anything, I don't think. Those trees, "she gestured vaguely behind her, "look like they probably have clabberts and definitely runespoors, but we had the Forest and that went all right for the most part, so-"

Snape raised one eyebrow one millimeter and Granger broke off in the middle of a thought. McGonagall didn't comment, simply establishing the compass on its tripod. A little while later, they had the reading and Hermione sucked in a breath.

"Twenty-five? How can that be?" She jabbed wildly below. "The pools are the right size to be _teeming_ with hippocampi and you said, Professor, they lived here. How can they if there's so little potential for magic?"

"For human magic," Snape said impatiently, but not as impatiently as was his wont. "Hippocampi do a little bit of their own kind of magic, but they don't think about it the same way humans do. They search for a different kind of potential, one this compass won't measure." Granger looked crushed under the weight of her own ignorance, so against his better judgment, he added, "You wouldn't have learned that in Care of Magical Creatures. You'd only know it if you'd dealt with magical potential before. You haven't."

Severus shut his mouth. Granger had barely seemed to notice that this was the longest speech he'd ever made to a student, at least the longest speech that wasn't overtly hostile, but McGonagall was giving him a look that said it hadn't escaped _her_ attention.

"Does that absolutely preclude building here?" Granger's eyes were still wide.

McGonagall, who had opposed even considering this site, sighed. "Not exactly, but it would make things considerably more difficult. The building of the school would require much more magical energy. Once we got the students here, they would struggle to perform on their normal level. Second-year students would need to start off doing first-year spells. In the end, we'd probably have to switch to an eight-year school cycle."

Granger's eyes narrowed suddenly and Snape could see the wheels in her head turning. "But that would mean... in the end, we'd be a lot stronger, wouldn't we? As a group, I mean."

"That is correct," Snape said. "One point to Gryffindor." Now he could see her wondering if her house would actually get that one point. She was an open book. It was amazing the Death Eaters had bothered to torture her for information. Everything she knew must have been stamped on her features.

The open book of Granger closed as soon as the three were back on Hogwarts soil. Her face shut down and Severus watched her assemble a neutral expression. First came the mouth, which softened and settled into a relaxed position. Then there was the nose, which flared a little and settled too. Last of all were the eyes. She didn't quite manage the eyes.

As she was preparing to separate from her professors in the Great Hall, Granger asked, "Professor McGonagall, do you know anything at all about the Knott compass? I feel like I read about it somewhere, only I can't quite remember."

Minerva professed her ignorance and Snape decided not to mention that he knew exactly what book she meant. He had gone looking for it in the Hogwarts library the day before. The geography and architecture books weren't due to be moved for another week, at least, but that book was nowhere to be found. Curse Albus. He planned for things like Granger sticking her nose in books on the subject.

The student disappeared up a staircase, leaving the two colleagues standing together in the midday light of the Great Hall.

Presently Minerva said, "You liked the second site, didn't you, Severus?"

"Yes."

"Miss Granger did, too."

"Yes. She made that abundantly clear when she went off on a tangent the likes of which the world has never before seen."

She'd said one more thing, right before they'd apparated, but she'd been so quiet Snape almost thought he'd imagined it. Staring into the sky over the cliff, she'd said, "Here's _true_."

And it was.


	7. Close Encounters of the Slytherin Kind

Disclaimer: My name is Regina Lacrimarum. I own no published stories. Please, don't sue. I'm a poor student, anyway, so you won't get anything out of me.

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><p>Hermione woke up on the Monday after she had seen the sites for the new castle with a terrible headache. Her hands were cold as ice for no apparent reason and her fingers trembled for the first few moments as she tried to dress in the dark. The other Gryffindor girls were apparently still asleep, though she had her suspicions about Ginny.<p>

She hadn't slept well that night. She had tossed and turned for a while before finally nodding off, only to have something wake her in the wee hours. She couldn't remember now what it was. It might have been a sound she heard in her sleep or the feeling of something on her skin, but when she opened her eyes, the silence boomed in her ears and she couldn't bear the brush of her blankets on her skin. It had taken a long time before she could go to sleep after that.

As Hermione dragged a brush through her stubborn hair, Ginny cleared her throat from the next bed over. Hermione braced herself for questions.

"I missed you this weekend. I didn't see you at all on Saturday and then you were holed up in the library on Sunday."

Hermione had been going over the architecture section with a fine-toothed comb, trying to find the book she'd seen once. All she had were details that she knew librarians hated to hear. _"__Uh, it had a blue cover. With a moon on it, or maybe a house. It was about magical buildings?"_ Anyway she couldn't tell Ginny that.

She did what she had been doing a lot more of late than she liked to admit: she lied to her friend's face. Specifically, she babbled about research for McGonagall and Snape. At the last second, she realized that she shouldn't have included that last bit, as Ginny had strong feelings about Snape's treatment of Hermione. It was too late to fix her error so Hermione tried to ignore Ginny's stare of worry and disapproval. She did notice that Ginny actually didn't interrogate her, which was a mercy. It showed how attuned Ginny was to her friends' moods.

The two girls walked down to breakfast together. As they approached the Great Hall, Hermione felt a tickling at her hip. She halted and waved Ginny on, promising to join her in a minute. Now Ginny looked like she would explode from the weight of not asking but to her credit she didn't ask. Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled out her schedule. _Staff meeting at half eight_. Hermione recognized Snape's hand and saw that he was still using green ink. She rolled her eyes to herself.

Hermione ate quickly and stood to go. She felt Ginny squeeze her arm.

"Where are you going?" Ginny asked, so low that only Hermione could hear. Hermione swallowed hard, trying to think of a reply. Ginny smiled bitterly. "I'll give you time to come up with a lie."

Hermione blinked. "Ginny, I don't want-"

"You'd better go," Ginny cut in. "Wherever you're going, it must be important for you to rush out like this."

Hermione couldn't help it. She leaned down and met Ginny's hurt hazel eyes. "It_'s _important. And I swear, if it were my secret to tell, you'd be the first to know." She straightened and grabbed her bag. "I'll see you later." She hurried out, conscious of Ginny staring after her.

Hermione had thought that she would be the first to the staff meeting, but when she arrived, she was greeted by the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Ubitum. She smiled at him and tried to chirp a suitably appropriate greeting. He responded with an oily smile.

"The famous Miss Granger. I've heard so much about you, but we didn't get a chance to talk when you honored my class with your presence. The other professors assure me you're the brightest student they've ever seen." Ubitum sounded less than convinced. "Brighter than a young Severus Snape, as I understand it."

Hermione couldn't prove it, but she would swear the man had known Snape was coming around the corner. The Potions Master gave no sign that he'd heard the slight to his abilities. His student was not deceived.

"Good morning, Professor Snape," she said pleasantly. He grunted, which Hermione received as if it were the cheeriest of greetings. "I hope you're well?" He grunted again.

Left to her own devices, Hermione might have gone on like that forever, trying desperately to dispel the awkwardness. Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived with the other teachers in tow. They all took seats and Dumbledore beamed at them from his squishy violet armchair.

"I sent Professors McGonagall and Snape to review the possible sites for our new castle. Miss Granger was in attendance to see that everything ran smoothly. I heard from the professors privately and have decided on the basis of their advice to select the second area."

Hermione froze in the middle of taking notes and gaped at the headmaster in open disbelief. She was thrilled, but had no idea what might have caused the headmaster to make that choice. After all, Snape had hated the second site and McGonagall hadn't seemed to care one way or the other.

Snape, on the other side of the room, was not as blissfully ignorant as his student. Minerva might think that Dumbledore had only asked casually about Granger's preference, but he knew better. Dumbledore never asked casual questions. If he asked, he wanted to know and he had a particular reason for wanting to know. Snape at least had known that the girl's choice would stand.

Now the teenager was standing up; Dumbledore had asked her to explain the advantages of the second site. She stumbled over her words, rocked back and forth, and corrected herself constantly. She looked like a wind-up toy and sounded like a time-turner caught in loop, repeating a few words over and over. Snape hated himself for remembering how well Lily had spoken in front of people.

Was it going to be like this forever? Well, why shouldn't it? It had been like this for twenty years, so why should it change just because he'd seen her avenged? Would it be different if he'd killed Voldemort himself?

Snape forced himself away from such ugly thoughts in time to hear Hermione conclude with an explanation of the low magical potential. "One thing this does mean," she finished brightly, "is that we can take more with us. A lot of the books and supplies have only a very small residual amount of magic. That means that in an area with such low magical potential they'd be perfectly safe! In fact, the magic would fade away long before anyone thought to remove them from the castle." No one had told her that, Snape thought. She'd been doing research again. He almost wished someone would take the initiative to ban her from the library, but the scholar in him rebelled at thinking such a thing even in jest. After all, Hermione was the only student who ever entered the place voluntarily.

Dumbledore was still beaming as though he hadn't had to sit through the worst presentation in staff meeting history. "That's that, then. Anyone who has questions may come to me later in my office. Right now I believe most of you have class." When Ubitum stood and made to address Dumbledore, the old man smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, my dear boy, I need to have a private chat with Professor Snape and Miss Granger." Snape would have been cheered by the sour look on Ubitum's face except that now he had to stay himself.

Dumbledore waited until all the other teachers had exited the room to begin. Snape and Granger stood awkwardly to either side of Dumbledore's chair while he steepled his fingertips and hummed a jaunty tune to himself and the others filed out. When they had all gone, the headmaster said, "I've been meaning to ask you about this, Severus. When and where are you going to hold your lessons with Miss Granger?"

Snape goggled. "Lessons?"

Unfazed, Dumbledore pressed him. "Of course. She will be having private lessons with Professor Flitwick for charms and I understand Professor Vector is looking forward to teaching her the requisite equations."

"But she will not need Potions lessons!" Snape cried indignantly. He thought he'd made it quite clear that he wouldn't spend any time with her outside of class. "I didn't agree to-"

Taking no comfort from the fact that Granger looked as surprised as he was, Severus stayed silent for a moment to compose himself. When he trusted himself to speak, he went on. "I was not aware that I had contracted to do private tutoring."

Dumbledore sighed but didn't look surprised. Would it kill the old man to look surprised for once in his life? "Miss Granger, I think you'd better go." Granger headed for the door, but Dumbledore stopped her as she put her hand on the knob. "Stay, please, Miss Granger. On second thought, it's better for you to hear this.

"Now, Severus, think back to your own years here. Think about the power welling up in you." Dumbledore's eyes were grave and he played distractedly with his beard. "What would you have given to have a tutor for Potions, or for any other subject, for that matter? When you were already running rings around the older students? How much further would you have progressed with such help, and in what different directions?"

It was obvious from Dumbledore's expression that he thought a lot about that last part, but Snape expected that mixture of paternal affection and selfish guilt from the headmaster. What he hadn't expected was Granger's shocked eyes. She had understood the import of "different directions" and Snape's insides twisted with rage. What right did she have to hear this? What right did she have to understand? He saw her turning her head slowly in his direction and looked away, at Dumbledore, hoping his face said the obscenities he didn't want to utter in front of Granger. Not because of professionalism or any concern for her delicate ears, understand. He simply didn't want to indicate by any means whatsoever that _he_ had taken Dumbledore's words to heart.

"I think it advisable that you teach her both additional Potions and wandless magic, since it was, after all, you who included that clause in her contract."

"I will not," Snape said coldly. "I refuse to spend that much time with her." Trying and failing to forget that Granger was in the room, hating himself for being here, hating her for seeing it, and most of all, hating Dumbledore, he said, "You owe me something. You will always owe me something. And I will not teach her both."

Dumbledore did look surprised now, but Snape was too shocked that he had finally said what he had been thinking for the past twenty years to revel in it. The Headmaster finally said, "Very well. I suppose it wouldn't do to push you into retirement." The old man smiled. Snape did not. "You may teach her one, and we will find another tutor for the other. Miss Granger, which would you like to learn from Professor Snape?"

The girl frowned. "I think Professor Snape would be the best judge of that. Sir, which would you like to teach me?"

She was trying, in a small way, to support him against Dumbledore. How like her, how like everyone else in this damn country, to want to help now that he was a hero. "Potions," he said at last.

Dumbledore clapped his hands. "Splendid! Miss Granger, I understand that you currently have no tutoring sessions with Professor Ubitum?"

Hermione shook her head and Snape could read her face. She was thinking what a terrible travesty it was that she had no need of instruction against the Dark Arts. Well, it was a travesty, but so was everything else in the world.

"He is more than qualified to teach you wandless magic," Dumbledore continued. "I shouldn't have sent him away, after all. Such is life. Severus, would you mind fetching him for me?"

Snape stalked out of the room. Hermione eyed Dumbledore warily but he sat, humming and twiddling his thumbs, and seemed content to let the silence extend until Ubitum arrived.

Ubitum finally oiled his way in. He had no objections and the meeting was a short one. She was to have two evening lessons with Ubitum (Monday and Wednesday, staring that very evening) and two with Snape (Tuesdays and Thursdays). Dumbledore's paternal smile told them they were dismissed and Hermione and her professor stood to leave at the same time.

He bowed to indicate that she should precede him down the stairs. Hermione had no choice but to think him and proceed, despite a queer feeling that she didn't want him at her back. They were going in the same direction-Hermione was actually going to attend lessons this morning. She was trying to go to at least one class per subject per week. It never hurt to stay in practice.

Speaking first, Ubitum asked, "Are you enjoying your project, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you feel you're learning from it?"

"Yes, sir." Hermione couldn't have explained why she felt so uneasy."That's good, then. It would be terrible if you didn't."

Hermione hesitated before replying. "I imagine it would be more a mild inconvenience than a catastrophe, really. Professor Dumbledore has said I can stop participating and resume normal schoolwork whenever I want."

"That was kind of him."

"Besides, he doesn't actually need my help." Hermione forced a laugh, aware that her statement sounded more like a question.

"He'd certainly like it," Ubitum said smoothly, and turned a corner, as she went on straight ahead.

Hermione was a little late to Transfiguration, but she was still the first one to transform each of the cards in her Exploding Snap deck into a rose. She varied the colours on hers for the first dozen or so, producing a lovely mix of red, pink, and white. Around her, she heard the little pops as roses did what Exploding Snap cards did best and flew apart. Petals rained down around her every few moments. She had turned to the task of creating a blue rose, which didn't occur in nature and was thus harder to effect, when she heard an odd scratching sound.

Hermione looked to her left to see that Malfoy's rose was winding its way across his desk, stem bending oddly and thorns scraping the wood. It looked like a snake with a swollen scarlet head. He had his wand in hand and when the rose seemed to be slowing in its crawl, he flicked his wand and the flower quickened its pace. The magic was more showy than impressive, but then, he was probably just bored.

Then Malfoy looked up and saw her watching. He caught her eyes with his own as the flower burst into flames. She wanted to tell him how predictable that was of him, but knew it wouldn't help. Someone had told him who had killed Lucius and there were some things that were unforgivable. By the end of the war, it had been unclear how Draco felt about Lucius, but that was irrelevant. For the Malfoys, blood was thicker than cement. She hadn't spoken to him for more than a year now.

Runes was next. Hermione finished the problems on the board within a quarter of an hour and Vector came over to her desk with a massive book under her arm. This tome she placed reverentially on Hermione's desk. "Chapters 4 and 23," she said.

Hermione took out parchment for notes and started reading. Chapter 4 was on the dangers and benefits of combining runework with wanded magic. She wouldn't have time to start on 23, but the title was Runes in Architecture: Wards, Strengthening Spells, and More.

A lot of the material was familiar to Hermione in broad strokes, but the detail was new. She knew, for instance, that while wanded magic was responsive to intent, runes were inflexible. They meant exactly what was written, no more and no less. She had not known that runes could be used to limit the usage of wanded magic. There was a very handy full-colour illustration of a book that became a teacup halfway down its length because of a few runes written on the spine. Runes could be used to construct walls around a spell, but they were hard to remove and so were rarely used, because if you failed to define your parameters carefully, you could end up with an unwanted effect that was nearly impossible to undo.

Vector kept her after class. She was to read the rest of chapters 4 and 23 and to do further research on the use of runes for the foundations of a building.

Of course, the made her late for Potions and forced her to sit next to Malfoy, who was sitting, defiant and partnerless, at the back of the room. Here at least, Hermione had to concentrate. She had never got over Harry's superior performance in sixth year. Even the knowledge that he had needed Snape's book to outperform her did not cheer her and she took her time with the potions now. She still followed the instructions to the letter, but at each step, she asked herself why she was doing what she was.

Malfoy still did not speak to her at all, but they gathered and added ingredients silently finished their potion in good time. Hermione brought a sample up to Snape, who eyed it critically. "Adequate," he said coldly. By this, Hermione supposed he meant only that it looked about right.

It was at this second that the vial burst into bright blue flame. Snape dropped it. It shattered, but the blue flames kept licking around the fragments. The Professor whipped out his wand. "Aguamenti!"

The ominous hissing that followed was like the sound of Hermione's chances of respect from the Potions Master escaping through a crack in the floor. The classroom was silent.

Hermione broke the silence. "Too much-" she stopped awkwardly, but Snape gestured with ironic courtesy for her to continue. "Too much Shrivelfig."

"That's not possible," snapped Malfoy from his desk. "I added two ounces exactly."

Hermione made a small noise of protest. "But _I_ added two ounces exactly! ...Oh."

"And all becomes clear," Snape said and sneered. Hermione felt he actually enjoyed the chance to break out a good sneer. "Do you mean to say that _neither of you_ top students, _neither of you_ who survived one of the deadliest battles of our times, _neither of you_ who have been hailed as the brightest prospects of our age, _neither of you_ thought to speak to the other?"

Hermione kept quiet. "No" seemed inadequate. So did "Oopsy-daisy" or any other honest answer. Malfoy was similarly reticent.

Sighing, Snape rubbed one thumb across his forehead. The digit had a scar from some long-ago burn and Hermione was shocked at how tired the gesture made the professor look. Then the moment of weariness passed and he was Professor Snape once again. "The potion is useless, but at this level there's no point in simply giving you a failing grade. You'll need to make it again tonight, after which you'll be choppignShrivelfig to make up for wasting my supplies. Yes, Miss Granger, I remember that you have another engagement, so don't look at me with cow eyes. We'll make it nine o'clock.

"That only leaves... ten points from Slytherin and fifty from Gryffindor."

Malfoy grinned and Hermione was scandalized. "But Professor, that's obviously unfair! We made the same mistake!"

"Yes, you did," Snape snarled. "The difference is that I expected it from him." Malfoy's grin vanished.

It was an odd feeling, when Hermione grabbed her book bag and walked out of the room without waiting to be dismissed, to know that she wasn't technically required to be there and couldn't be held accountable. Of course, Snape would be angry, but Snape would always have been angry.

There were still fifteen minutes until lunch, so Hermione dawdled in the corridors with only her embarrassment for company. It wasn't the potion that upset her, but rather the realisation that she had disappointed her professor.

Anger replaced embarrassment as she reflected that he had never shown that he expected anything out of her until he failed to get it just once.

A younger student wandered across her path and Hermione realised that classes were letting out. She had lost her appetite, so she just hitched her book bag over her shoulder and headed to the library to research her runes.


End file.
